Fiona and Jane(53)
“Let’s go down,” I said. “I’ll drive.”
* * *
? ? ?
Ed and I only dated for six months. Then he flew home to Evanston for Thanksgiving and when he got back, the guy dumped me. His popo had taken him aside and told him if he kept seeing me something terrible would happen—his ED issues were an omen, she’d warned, holding up a crooked finger before his face. She’s never been wrong, Ed had said when we met up to talk.
“What is she, some kind of psychic?” I asked. “How’d she know about—”
“I’ve been taking these Chinese medicine packets she gave me.” He leaned toward me. “Maybe we can try—one last time?”
Anyway, I let him kiss me. Five minutes later, we both had our jeans off. I stuck a hand in his briefs, but his grandma’s herbs weren’t performing any miracles.
“Why can’t you get a prescription for Cialis, like a normal person?”
Ed rattled off the list of side effects: nausea, headache, dry mouth, diarrhea. “And what if I get a boner that lasts four hours?”
“So that’s it? We’re breaking up?”
He didn’t reply, just zipped up his pants.
* * *
? ? ?
The movers hoisted Fiona’s sofa through the front door at the new place and set it down in a corner of the living room. While they brought in the rest of the boxes, I stripped the plastic wrap off the pilling sofa cushions and stuffed them back into place. The cushions smelled like Fiona. I wondered if she’d been sleeping on the sofa these last few months, instead of the bed.
Sonny stepped through the door with a package shrouded in a blue towel.
“Please—careful with that one.” Fiona crossed the room and took it from him. She lowered it softly on the glass coffee table and unwrapped the towel.
“Haven’t seen one of those in a minute,” Sam said. “Does it work?”
I’d found the old typewriter at the Goodwill on Vine Street, in the electronics section next to a squat thermal paper fax machine. Immediately, I thought of buying it for Ed’s Christmas gift. I knew he’d love it. He filled his apartment with all sorts of old, battered things; I didn’t know if it spoke to a Chinese immigrant mentality passed down from generations who saved and salvaged everything (I’d witnessed the same compulsion in the apartments of my tenants), or if it was some eco-friendly hipster upcycling scheme. Fiona had sidled up to me in that musty aisle, and we’d stood there a moment, silently admiring the blue Remington case, the elegant black keys. She knew what I was thinking.
“It’s perfect,” she’d said, nodding. She reached out a finger and pushed down on a few keys, the corresponding silver pegs lifting out of the hatch.
I never got a chance to give it to Ed. I didn’t want it in my apartment because it reminded me of him, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out, either, so Fiona took it home.
“You’re a writer?” Sam asked.
“A lawyer,” she replied. She caught my eye across the room then quickly looked away.
“A lawyer?” Sam grinned at Sonny. “We know a few of those.”
“I mean, I’m in law school,” Fiona said.
That wasn’t true, either. She’d dropped out years ago.
“And what does this lovely young lady do?” Sam asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Nothing?”
“I manage an apartment building.”
“All by yourself?”
“It’s not too hard,” I said.
“You know about our foundation? If you ever need our services.” He slid a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a business card.
“She’s the writer,” Fiona said.
I accepted the card from Sam, and my fingers brushed against the calluses curled in his hands. “I’ll definitely use you guys next time,” I told him, even though I knew I wouldn’t call, because I couldn’t leave Uncle Frankie’s team out to dry like that.
“She writes screenplays,” Fiona continued.
“No, I don’t,” I said. “You two always work together?”
“We can request it,” Sam answered. “I’m a team leader, so sometimes I get put up on bigger jobs.” He glanced over at Sonny and gave a nod. “One day Sonny will train to be team leader, too.”
“You’re from Chinatown?” I asked. Sonny looked blankly at me. “Chinatown?” I said again. “Sam said earlier you lived there.”
“Oh,” he said. There was a silence while Fiona, Sam, and I waited.
Sonny blinked rapidly several times, then raised both hands to his face and rubbed up and down. Finally, he said, “Grew up there, yeah. Don’t live there no more.”
In a kind voice, Fiona asked him whether he still had family in the neighborhood.
Sonny’s expression darkened. A scowl gripped his face, tightened the clench of his jaw.
“Sonny, you all right?” Sam peered at him, frowning.
Sonny leaned against the wall next to the door, looking as if he wanted to throw it open and sprint off. “I’m okay, boss,” he said. He turned his gaze toward Fiona. “Thing is—I’m not supposed to set foot near—after what I did to that old lady—”